Post by Raphael Vittore on Jul 8, 2007 17:49:49 GMT -5
One last drink before he got shoved off into Hell with the rest of his platoon. Rafe intended to enjoy his last afternoon of freedom, and as such he was shitfaced drunk outside a stoop in Rome. A big bottle of Tuaca liquor cradled in the crook of one arm as he leaned back against the wall, cigarette clasped between his teeth. He didn't even smoke, but it calmed your nerves, right? Wasn't like he was a private or anything...but this was it. Another deployment, another shitty run in the trenches, fighting those goddamned Frenchmen.
"Spero a Dio che questa guerra non dura. Voglio essere a casa prima che ho trenta anni..." he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. (I hope to God the war doesn't last. I want to come home before I hit 30.) Of course, he had no reason to think the war would last long. Hell, just let him get through it alive. That's all.
"Spero a Dio che questa guerra non dura. Voglio essere a casa prima che ho trenta anni..." he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. (I hope to God the war doesn't last. I want to come home before I hit 30.) Of course, he had no reason to think the war would last long. Hell, just let him get through it alive. That's all.